


after Mary

by golden_carnival



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: After mary, Domestic, Fluff, Gen, Johnlock - Freeform, Mary's death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 04:19:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9962792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/golden_carnival/pseuds/golden_carnival
Summary: SPOILER WARNING: MAJOR SPOILER FROM S4E1. DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU’VE SEEN THAT EPISODE. SERIOUS. I’M GIVING YOU A CHANCE NOW. I WARNED YOU.I. WARNED. YOU.John is mourning the death of Mary and Sherlock makes an effort to help.





	

John was stoic during the funeral. He choked back tears saying his last goodbye to Mary as her casket was lowered into the ground. Molly stood by holding his daughter and Sherlock tooK his place behind him. John just stood straight; he didn’t talk. Greg approached, but decided not to say anything. Instead he rested his hand on John’s shoulder and gave him a sad smile. Mycroft approached and offer polite condolences. John thanked him. Molly gave him a kiss on the check and took Rosie off with her. They’d arranged for her to stay with Molly for a week while John worked through logistics. He’d visit Molly often.  
  
“Oh it’s just. It’s just terrible isn’t it?” Mrs. Hudson brushed tears from her eyes. “Oh John, I can’t imagine how you must feel. I’m so sorry dear.”  
  
“Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. We’ll be alright I suppose.” He patted her on the back.  
  
“Well, your room is ready for you when you are. Wouldn’t dream of giving it to anyone else anyway. It suits to have you around.”  
  
Sherlock looked at Mrs.Hudson confused, “I don’t think John is going to…”  
  
“Thank you, Mrs.Hudson. My bag’s with me, so I’ll be back tonight.” Jon kissed her cheek and turned to Sherlock, “Mind?”  
  
“No. Of course.” He didn’t smile, but he seemed to get a sense of peace.

 

* * *

John let his bag fall of his shoulder and hit the floor. He sat in his chair and just stared. Sherlock stood there for a few moments not quite sure what to do. He started talking about a case from last week.

  
But John wasn’t listening. His eyes were watching Sherlock, but he wasn’t seeing them. He was seeing Mary. She was sitting at the table planning picking the wedding guests.  
  
Sherlock paced to fireplace and adjusted the skull on the mantel. John saw Mary. The first time she was at the apartment she’d walked to the skull and chatted with Sherlock about it.  
  
John saw Mary everywhere. She was on the couch, resting on his shoulder.  
  
Mrs. Hudson brought tea in and set it down next to John and brought a cup to Sherlock. He saw Mary come in with a tray of biscuits.  
  
“Thank you Mrs.Hudson.” John said. He was back in the room. Mary faded. She was gone.  
  
“Thank you.” Sherlock said, switching stories to talk about another case, but John interrupted him.  
  
“Sherlock.”  
  
He paused. Fearing for a moment he should stop talking about murder cases. Had he done something wrong? Would John leave him? They’d barely spoken since Mary was killed? “Timing?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Then what?” Sherlock scoured the room looking for a clue he might have missed.  
  
“Just. Just sit.” John nodded chair opposite him.  
  
Sherlock took off his coat and threw it over the back of the chair before sitting down.  
  
John took a sip of tea and avoided eye contact for a moment. “Sherlock. I… If I’m going to move back in then…”  
  
“I can’t promise to keep body parts out of the fridge, John. I’ve said it before it’s important to have a lab in the kitchen for…”  
  
“Sherlock” John set his tea to the side. “Rosie’s going to live here too. We’re going to have to baby-proof the apartment at some point. And you can’t go shooting guns anymore. And if you wake her up while she sleep, Sherlock, I swear I will make you regret coming back to life.”  
  
Sherlock smiled. John was back.  
  
“Right. Good. Well, that was easy.” John took his tea and grabbed a book from the end table. He wasn’t really going to read, but it gave his eyes something to do.  
  
Sherlock sat looking at John for a couple of minutes. He drummed his fingers and then brought them to a fold under his nose. He pulled his feet onto the chair. John turned the pages in the book as his eyes scanned the pages. Occasionally his eyes would well up and he wipe away tears. The clock on the mantle ticked steady. Mrs. Hudson came back later and cleared the tea away and washed a couple of dishes. She didn’t normally clean up after them, but she thought she could make an exception tonight.  
  
Eventually Sherlock stood up and stepped into the other room. John noticed him leaving and let tears wet his checks. His head fell into the back of the chair and he took a deep breath. Mary. Then Sherlock reappear, his suit coat and tie were gone, but he had his violin. John smiled when he heard the first few notes. It was the song Sherlock had written for his wedding. But after just a few bars, the song change. It was another song Sherlock had written shortly after they moved in together. Sherlock stepped into John’s view and stopped in front of the window while the sun set. John returned to his book, and actually starts to pay attention to his reading. He flipped the pages back to the start of the chapter and got lost in the story. Sherlock kept playing original songs, stopping occasionally to make a note on a sheet of paper or slightly adjust the tuning. This continued for several hours.  
  
Eventually John closed his book and told Sherlock he was going to bed, who barely nodded in acknowledgement. The next few minutes he shifty to playing a softer song. A lullaby. “Pour Notre Fleur.” The melody danced softly through the flat.  
  
John took a short shower and put on pants and a t-shirt. He could hear the violin as he drifted off to sleep.  
  
Sherlock played for a while, until he thought John must be asleep. He walked the violin to its case and pulled out a soft cloth he kept with it. He wiped the wood of the body gently, turning the instrument over and over to clean each part. When he was done, he packed it all away and returned the case to it’s place in the living room. He walked to the end table near John’s chair and took a moment to examine the book he’d been reading. _The Great Gatsby._ Sherlock set the book down and adjusted it to the same angle it was before. He went to the kitchen and made himself tea.  
  
He started to hear tossing in his sleep. Sherlock stood quietly, and listened. John was muttering. Sherlock barely went up to John’s bedroom. It was barely large enough for a bed, so John didn’t even spend much time there. Sherlock walked to the base of the stairs. John was talking about Mary, but only in fragments.  
  
“John?” Sherlock listened, then repeated himself. “John?” John kept on muttering.  
  
Sherlock walked up the stars and pushed the door open. John was in a sweat, tangled in his blankets. Sherlock stood in the doorway watching John toss and turn, still mumbling about Mary. John’s jaw was clenched when he wasn’t talking. He brow was furrowed.  
  
Sherlock reached down to wake him. John only grabbed Sherlock’s arm and stopped tossing, “mary.”  
  
“No. It’s …”  
  
Sherlock paused and sat on the side of the bed. John pulled Sherlock’s arm closer. Sherlock threw his legs on the bed and began to adjust the blankets with his free arm. He watched as John settled closer to him. He sat there for several minutes wondering what to do next. Then he saw John’s face relax and Sherlock smiled. He leaned his head against the headbored and fell asleep.


End file.
